


Freelance Good Guys: Tomb of the Skorpius

by TheGreys (alienjpeg)



Series: Looming Gaia [8]
Category: Freelance Good Guys, Looming Gaia, Original Work
Genre: Action/Adventure, Blood and Gore, Body Horror, Elf/Human Relationship(s), Elves, Fantasy, Giant Spiders, Golems, Horror, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Magic, Team as Family, Undead, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-19
Updated: 2018-08-19
Packaged: 2019-06-29 11:54:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15728895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alienjpeg/pseuds/TheGreys
Summary: A mighty scorpion-man is terrorizing the women of Duali, dragging them back to his lair never to be seen again. The Freelance Good Guys are on the case, but are they any match for such a terrible beast? In this mysterious old tomb, perhaps the skorpius is the least of their worries…





	Freelance Good Guys: Tomb of the Skorpius

**Author's Note:**

> This story can be read on its own, but it's technically part of the "Freelance Good Guys" series and it'll make more sense if you read them in order.
> 
> For concept art, lore, and worldbuilding stuff check out: https://loominggaia.tumblr.com/post/175087795478/looming-gaia-masterpost

_SUMMER, 6002_

 

     These days, the people say it’s “every man for himself” in the treacherous Serkel Desert.

 

     Or in the village of Duali, “every woman for herself”, as monsters had been snatching local women away in the night. Why only women or what to do about it, no one could say. It had been happening for months, hundreds of Dualin sisters, daughters, and mothers dragged into the desert by vile skorpius.

 

     The skorpius were as hideous as they were powerful, built like two-armed torsos sprouting from a massive scorpion body. These arms were tipped with pincers, the monster’s hide armored with spiked chitin. Feredil had only heard her husband describe them, but she had never seen one for herself.

 

     Until tonight.

 

     She never meant to be out passed sunfall, but there was no water left in the house. So Feredil made a trip to the well—just a quick trip, she thought—with a big clay jug balanced upon her head. No one else was out at this hour. The narrow streets were silent and empty.

 

     Duali was a slapdash village, still crumbling from the war. Crooked adobe structures were stacked atop one another, casting bold shadows in the alleys. Feredil filled her jug and hefted it back upon her head. Her husband always said she was strong for an elf, though he was normally the one to fetch water.

 

     This month he was working in foreign lands, and that’s why his wife was out past midnight doing his chores. Her skin prickled as she returned home. Her stomach tightened. Somehow the air didn’t feel right, didn’t smell right. She was being scrutinized, that she knew, though she could not tell where these predatory eyes were hiding in the dim lamplight.

 

     And then in the blink of an eye, Feredil was gone. She disappeared into the blackness of an alley, leaving nothing but a shattered jug behind.

 

*

 

     Perhaps some villagers heard Feredil’s screams. Maybe they thought it was none of their business, or maybe they knew exactly what was happening and thought better than to get involved. Either way, no one came to the elfenne’s rescue as the skorpius carried her out of the village.

 

     His grip was like iron, her leg and forearm bloodied where the monster’s pincers grasped her. He squeezed her close to his armored chest and scurried off into the desert on eight spidery legs. Feredil quickly stopped fighting his grip, for with every thrash his pincers sunk deeper into her flesh.

 

     All she could do was scream, and the uncaring dunes swallowed her voice whole. Her only witness was the crescent moon as the skorpius carried her miles out into the wild. He followed no visible path, yet somehow found his way to a crumbling stone ruin.

 

     Most of the ruin was sunken deep into the ever-shifting dunes, but there lie a tall entrance before them, the doorway engraved with worn designs. The skorpius took Feredil through, straight into the blackness. Just as they passed through the hall, crystal orbs lit up along the walls, casting an ominous red light.

 

     The hallway ended in a spacious chamber, stony and dilapidated. There was only one other doorway and it led into total darkness. Chipped and broken pillars lined the walls. Bones old and new, of animals and peoples, were scattered around the sandy floor. They lead up to the corner, and there sat a massive, reeking pile of remains.

 

     The chamber smelled of stale air, rot, and copper. It was miserably hot. Finally the monster released Feredil, tossed her carelessly to the ground. Stars danced behind her eyes, the wind knocked from her lungs as she hit the stone. Scrambling upright, Feredil saw the skorpius approaching her with his tail arced high above his head.

 

     A sharp barb threatened her, oozing with sizzling black venom. Feredil shrieked and tried to dodge around him. He jumped in her path with a loud hiss. His face was as grotesque as the rest of him, horned and red, rough with tiny spikes. His yellow eyes shifted with her every movement while she tried to out-maneuver him and make a dash for the door.

 

     He blocked the elfenne’s path every time, backing her into the shady corner. His tail twitched with his gaze, taking great care with his aim. Trapping her between his two frontmost legs, he seized her shaven skull between his pincers and jerked her head back, exposing a smooth, brown throat where he would strike.

 

     Feredil’s screams echoed off the stony walls, shrill and piercing. The skorpius cared not. At least until it heard another voice from behind…

 

     “Alright, I’ve seen enough. Pull him in, Lukas!”

 

     The skorpius turned with a startled hiss. Then a burly arrow whizzed forth and shot into his mouth. The barbed iron tip pierced through the back of his neck, and attached to the end was a rope. Feredil caught a glimpse passed the monster, saw two men standing on a pile of rubble.

 

     Both were armored, one in steel and the other in leather. The steel-clad man was mountainous and fair of complexion, wielding a sword and shield. The second was taller and slimmer, a hood and face wrap obscuring all but his eyes. It was he who shot the arrow, and now he had seized the end of the rope.

 

     Together, he and the other man gave it a yank. The skorpius jerked towards them, gurgling and flailing as they reeled him away from Feredil like a hooked fish. The elfenne quivered in the corner, eyes darting between the monster, the men, and the doorway. Her face was bleeding where the pincers grasped her. Her nerves were shot, head dizzy. She was frozen in fear.

 

     The skorpius wasn’t ensnared for long. He reached up and snipped the rope with his giant claw, sending the men on the other end tumbling down the pile of rubble. He pulled the arrow from his mouth with a splatter of blood. Just as he charged forward to attack them, a third man came to their rescue.

 

     Feredil watched, mesmerized as a dworf-sized human launched himself from atop a pillar. He brought his warhammer down on the skorpius’ back. A deafening crack echoed off the walls as the chitin split down the middle. The monster let out a terrible screech, tried to reach his jockey. His big armored arms simply weren’t that agile.

 

     Perhaps his arms couldn’t reach, but his tail certainly could. The tail extended back, ready to strike. Before it could, a woman in dragon-scale armor appeared from the shadows. She pinned his tail between her chest and the handle of her spear.

 

     Her weight was too much, and the skorpius desperately spun in circles, trying to fling her off all while the golden-haired man was ripping the chitin plates off his back. Each one came loose with a sickening squelch and a gush of sticky yellow goo.

 

     The steel-clad man and the archer had dusted themselves off, waiting for an opening to strike. They never got one, as the monster suddenly rolled onto its back, crushing the golden-haired man and flinging the spear-woman all in one motion. The woman dropped her spear and flew into the other two men, knocking them back to the floor.

 

     As the skorpius righted itself again, a fifth hero peeked out from behind a pillar. They were not a green elf like Feredil, but a red elf from the eastern lands. She could tell by the flame-orange eyes glowing beneath their hood. Their age or gender, she could not see, for they were draped in heavy dark robes from head to toe.

 

     The red elf rubbed their gloved hands together and a magic flame burst to life between them. The skorpius was advancing on the spear-woman. The red elf pitched a crackling fireball and struck the monster in the side of the skull. With a furious hiss, the skorpius scrambled back in a tangle of legs, had no soft hands to soothe his burning eyes and so he shook his head helplessly.

 

     Blinded and peeled of his armor, the skorpius never saw the steel-clad man rushing forth. Man charged monster with a mighty bash of his shield, sending both of them toppling. The man was quick to roll back to his feet, then he plunged his sword into the skorpius’ injured back.

 

     But the skorpius still had eight legs and two arms to spare, and he used every last one of them to seize the man. The man lost his grip on his sword, still lodged in his foe’s body. The monster slammed him to the ground and pinned him there under all 500 pounds of his weight.

 

     The skorpius arced his tail high once more. His eyes were swollen and bloodshot, sharp, yellowed teeth bared in rage. “I shall die,” he gurgled through the blood pooling in his mouth. “But I shall take you with me!”

 

     Just then the other four heroes dogpiled the monster, seizing his tail, his back, his torso, weapons clanging and clattering against chitin. Feredil stood on knocking knees as she watched the brawl, ducked when a dagger spun towards her. The skorpius used his many limbs and the last of his strength to fend them off.

     With a swipe of a claw, he disarmed the golden-haired man and sent his warhammer cascading across the chamber. With a hard kick, the spear-woman went rolling away. The red elf and the archer jumped back and kept their distance, struggling to aim fire and arrow while their friends were still in the fray.

 

     Shaken of its foes, the skorpius suddenly charged towards them. The red elf yelped and launched another fireball. It missed by inches, striking the wall harmlessly. The monster’s pincers were nearly upon them, until the archer suddenly leaped forth and closed the gap.

 

     The monster’s sharp pincer drove straight through the archer’s leather armor, seizing his midsection like a vice. Blood gushed over claw and the archer let out a howl of pain. The red elf stood petrified, hands clasped over their mouth with wide eyes above.

 

     Hardly a second later, the steel-clad man grabbed the skorpius’ tail and gave it a yank. He was a human of unusual strength it seemed, for he managed to drag the hefty monster out of reach from the red elf. The skorpius quickly dropped the archer, left him to curl up and bleed on the floor.

 

     Then it whirled around to face the steel-clad man, arced its tail and shot it down. The man raised his shield just in time, barb hitting board with a loud thump and a splash of black venom. “Isaac!” the man called as he parried the monster’s pincer with his sword. “Get the civilian out of here, now!”

 

     Feredil’s eyes shifted about in search of “Isaac”. The red elf was tending to the archer, cauterizing his wound with their flames. The golden-haired man was stumbling about, searching for his hammer among the rubble while the spear-woman tried to shake off a dizzying head injury.

 

     Then she jumped, startled when a boy appeared beside her. He couldn’t have been a day older than thirteen, clad in cotton clothes and a leather vest. He was thin and gangly, curly black hair growing free around his dark face. He took Feredil by the hand and said, “Don’t be scared. Just follow me, okay?”

 

     The elfenne hesitated, then she nodded and let the boy lead her around the battle in the center of the chamber. With his team incapacitated in one way or another, it was up to the steel-clad man to defeat the skorpius alone. Feredil nor Isaac got to see how the battle ended, for they were soon up the stairs and out of the dungeon.

 

     The chaos inside was just a whisper out here in the dunes. Under the moonlight, the two made their way towards the faint warm glow on the horizon—the lights of Duali. Feredil clutched the neck of her cotton top in a white-knuckled grip. Little tremors rattled her body as she tried to calm her panic.

 

     At some point she’d lost a sandal, probably on the way here. She decided to kick off the other and leave it behind. The sand would scald her feet if it were high sun, but at this hour the blistering Serkel Desert had cooled. The boy turned to her and asked, “You’re from Duali, huh?”

 

     The elfenne blinked, snapped out of her thoughts. She managed a weak, “Yes. How did you know?”

“Captain says that monster was stealing ladies from there.” The boy paused, then added, “Um, he also said I’m supposed to walk you back. You don’t mind, do you?”

 

     “Not at all,” Feredil sighed, tense shoulders finally sinking. She limped along on her bloody leg, but with all her adrenaline she hardly felt a thing. After a moment she continued, “I’m Feredil, by the way. Your name is Isaac? Did I hear that right?”

“Yep, that’s me!”

She smiled wearily. “Well, thank you, Isaac. Though I have to ask, what was a child like you doing in a skorpius’ lair?”

 

     “I’m a Freelance Good Guy,” the boy explained proudly. “The chief of Duali hired us to kill that gross monster. We waited and waited forever, and we thought maybe we had the wrong dungeon. Then there it was!” The excitement in his voice quieted, expression falling as he went on, “The other Guys wouldn’t let me fight though. They never let me do anything fun...”

 

     “You shouldn’t have been down there _at all_ , Boy!” Feredil told him. “But you did save my life, and for that I’m very grateful. I don’t have much right now, but please, let me repay you in some way.”

Isaac waved his hand. “You don’t have to do that. The chief is gonna pay us later.”

 

     Taking his hand, Feredil gave it a squeeze and said, “I insist. Look at you, you’ve got a cut on your face!”

Isaac brought his hand up, touched the pink scab running down his chin. “Oh, that wasn’t from the monster. Alaine told me not to juggle her knives but I did it anyway.”

 

     Feredil wouldn’t hear it. “You’re not going back in there,” she said firmly. “At least not until sunrise. There could be more of those disgusting _things_ about! Come, I have plenty of room at my house.”

 

     “The Captain says I’m not supposed t—”

“Your captain is an irresponsible fool, and he will get a sharp talking to if he makes it out of that ruin alive!”

 

     Isaac pressed his lips together tight. He decided it was best not to argue and followed Feredil back to her modest home in Duali.

 

*

 

     Down in the skorpius’ lair, the chaos had finally settled. The monster lie dead in the center of the chamber, two legs and one claw severed. Its skull was a bloom of chitin shards and black brain matter. Its tail too had been cut off, but much too late, as it had already sunk its barb into Captain Evan Atlas’ jugular.

 

     The other mercenaries hadn’t noticed until the man suddenly collapsed, steel armor clanging loudly on the stone floor. They circled him in a rush, flipped him on his back and pulled off his helmet. The others removed their own helmets and pulled their hoods away to examine him.

 

     “Oh no…” Alaine muttered as she dropped to her knees before him. She affixed her spear to her back harness and touched the side of Evan’s face. His color was draining by the minute. She turned to the others and reported, “He’s burning up! What do we do?”

 

     Glenvar, still without his hammer, shoved her aside and kneeled before his captain. “Tell ya what we do. We suck it out like a cheap wench!” He tilted Evan’s head back and lowered his head, prepared to seal his mouth over the bloody wound. But a large gloved hand raised up, planted itself against his face.

 

     “Glen, don’t,” Evan rasped. He cracked one eye open, hazy and bloodshot. “It’ll infect you too! Just get me to Duali. I need—I need _ice_. Neutralizes the venom.”

“Ice?” Glenvar raised an eyebrow. “Where are we gonna find ice in the damn _desert_?”

 

     “We have no choice but to try!” blurted Jeimos, the fiery red elf standing just behind him. “You lot carry Evan. I’ll get Lukas.” They turned to the archer, doubled over as he clutched the cauterized slice across his belly.

Lukas waved them away and grunted, “I don’t need help! I got it, I’m fine.”

 

     The archer rose to his feet, legs knocking all the while. The way his face contorted said it all. He barely lasted five seconds before he collapsed once more, let out an anguished groan.

“I say we take Evan and leave Luke,” suggested Glenvar. “Who’s with me?”

 

     Evan was quick to tell him, “No one gets left behind!” He coughed and a bit of black venom seeped from his wound. “If I don’t make it, Lukas is next in command. And if Lukas doesn’t make it…” His gaze shifted to the mermaid. “ _Alaine’s_ in command.”

 

     Glenvar's golden brows jumped. Alaine shot him a devious grin. “Oooh. Hear that, Glen?” she teased. “I’m gonna run your ass into the ground. Better hope Luke makes it out alive, or you’re my personal slave!”

“Alright, alright!” exclaimed Glenvar. Quickly he approached Lukas, and with a heave he slung the slender archer over his shoulder.

 

     Alaine slipped her hands under Evan’s armpits, Jeimos taking his knees, and together they carried him down the hall and up the short staircase to the exit. Glenvar walked ahead with Lukas and passed through the doorway. However, when the others tried to pass through, Evan fell from their grip as if he’d hit a wall.

 

     The captain landed on the floor with a clang. A thin veil of light pulsed over the doorway, like strikes of red lightning before it faded away. Alaine and Jeimos exchanged curious looks, then cautiously passed through.

 

     There they stood on the other side, but when they tried to pull Evan through with them, the doorway refused to let him go.

 

     “There’s some kind of magic seal,” observed Jeimos. “But why would it affect the captain and no one else?”

“I mean, that disgusting creature pumped him full of _something_. Magic poison?” Lukas suggested through his teeth, grit tightly in pain.

Glenvar shook his head. “Told ya we shoulda sucked it out!”

 

     “It’s alright,” Evan croaked. He lie just on the other side of the doorway, forcing a weak smile. “Leave me if you must. Our job is hazardous, as we—” He coughed once more, flecks of blood staining his chin. “—all know. I was bound to fall eventually.”

 

     “Not a chance!” Lukas replied. He stood beside Glenvar, leaned on his shoulder as he went on, “There was another doorway in there, which means there might be another way out.” He turned to the others. “And _you_ cretins are going to find it! I’ll stay here with Evan. You know, as if I have a choice…”

 

     Alaine, Jeimos, and Glenvar set off deeper into the chamber while Lukas sat in the entryway beside Evan. He pulled the captain’s head into his lap and examined the hideous wound on his neck. It was swollen and bruised, pitch-black around the edges of the puncture.

 

     Spidery black veins were beginning to extend from the site, across Evan’s face and clear up to his forehead which gleamed with sweat. His breathing was labored, eyes shut tight, teeth clenched behind his closed lips. Lukas shook his head and sighed. “Your lycanthropy might buy you some time,” he said.

 

     “Let’s hope not,” Evan nearly chuckled, but it was a bitter kind of sound.

Lukas rolled his eyes. “Just try to hang in there, will you? I don’t want to be in charge of these idiots. If you go down, I’m falling right behind you. That’s a promise.”

 

     Evan closed his eyes, made a soft noise of understanding. “I see,” he said. “Then I will not succumb. That too is a promise, my friend.”

 

*

 

     Alaine, Jeimos, and Glenvar ventured down the mysterious hall. Crystal orbs dangled from the ceiling every few feet and blinked to life as they approached.

“Think it’s magic or electricity?” queried Alaine.

Jeimos answered quickly, “Definitely magic. The place is humming with it. I feel it in my teeth!”

 

     Their footsteps echoed down the long corridor. They heard a soft skittering, saw a desert mouse crawl up the wall and disappear into a nook. Cobwebs dangled from the ceiling, lower and lower, until the mercenaries were ducking to avoid them. As they ventured further, the cobwebs began to consume everything from the walls to the crystal orbs, dimming their only source of light.

 

     Jeimos heard a shriek from behind. They thought it must be Alaine until they saw Glenvar flailing around with cobwebs in his hair. “Spiders!” he howled. “Shite, I busted an egg or somethin’! Get ‘em off me! _Get ‘em off me_!” Indeed, tiny black spiders were swarming him from head to toe.

 

     Alaine rolled her eyes and told him, “They’re just little jumping spiders. They’re harmless!”

“They’re in my damn eyes, _stira_!” he shouted back, then he stooped over and whipped his hair around like a windmill. The spiders flew every which way, some landing upon his fellow mercenaries.

 

     Alaine swatted them off while Jeimos briefly set themselves ablaze, burning the poor creatures to ash. They looked ahead at the open doorway. Open, except for the thick layer of webbing stretching across it. This material was not like the dusty cobwebs. It appeared glossy and wet.

 

     Alaine raised her spear to slice through it, but Glenvar seized the handle and barked, “Hold it! That ain’t just a spiderweb. That’s a silkbeast’s silk, and if ya stick yer spear in it, you ain’t ever gettin’ it back.”

The mermaid planted a hand on her hip. “How else are we supposed to get through then?”

 

     Glenvar turned to Jeimos. “Light it up, Red.”

The red elf nodded and rubbed their hands together, conjured a melon-sized fireball and lobbed it at the doorway. The silk lit up instantly, flames spreading from end to end in a flash.

 

     The mercenaries shielded their eyes from the blaze. In barely a minute, the silk burned away and the fire died with it. Beyond the doorway they could see an open chamber where more silk blanketed the walls like a messy coat of paint. Great gobs of it were piled up in the corners from which egg sacs dangled, as big as a man’s head.

 

     Countless bones were lodged in this silk, from mouse-sized skulls to human-sized femurs. The trio cautiously stepped inside with their weapons drawn. Surely where there was silk, there was a—

“Silkbeast! Up there!” cried Jeimos, thrusting their shaking finger towards the ceiling.

 

     They split apart just as the beasts descended. It had the bulk of a pony with none of the charm, a grotesque arachnid covered in greasy, striped hair. Glenvar wasn’t quick enough, and the silkbeast landed directly on top of him. With a quick twist of his body, Glenvar swung his hammer and bashed it in the face. One of its fangs broke loose, mandible crushed.

    

 

     The beast backed off just long enough for Glenvar to scramble away. Jeimos stood by with a ball of fire spinning between their hands. They eyeballed the glossy, flammable layer of silk all around them, and suddenly thought better of it. The flame died in a puff of smoke.

 

     They watched their golden-haired cohort trip over an old skull. It crunched beneath his boot and the man went tumbling down, head over heels, and then he found himself lying in a sticky web. The silkbeast was quickly advancing. But before it could sink its remaining fang into him, Alaine vaulted herself into the air with the end of her spear and landed upon its back.

 

     With one swift motion, she drove the pointed end into its flesh. The silkbeast spun around in a frenzy and the mermaid clutched the spear tight, still lodged deep in its hairy abdomen. Glenvar wriggled and writhed against the silk, but his back and every strand of hair on his head had become caught in its mighty pull.

 

     “I’m stuck! _Maska_ down!” he called. Jeimos rushed to his aid, mindful to step over ropes of silk stretched across the stony floor. They stood before him, hands jittering uselessly.

“I—I don’t know what to do!” they admitted.

Glenvar urged them, “Just burn it!”

“That’s a terrible idea! It ignites like petrol and you’re covered in it!”

 

     Meanwhile, Alaine rode the beast across the chamber as it desperately tried to throw her. She clamped her legs around its abdomen and dislodged her spear with a squelch, only briefly before bringing it down into its head. The iron tip pierced between its many eyes. She ripped it out and a gush of dark blood came with it, and then it plunged down again, again, and again.

 

     The beast began to stagger. Its eight legs fell out of rhythm. Alaine stabbed it over and over until finally, it collapsed and lie still. Its head was a mangled disaster, a gaping wound seeping blood over its back. The mermaid plunged her spear into its brain one more time for good measure. Then she stepped away from it, panting and soaked with arachnid gore.

 

     “Thanks for the help, Guys,” she panted with a roll of her eyes, affixing her bloodied weapon to her back. Jeimos looked at the egg sac dangling from the ceiling nearby.

Then they looked back to the dead silkbeast and asked, “If that was the mother, surely the father is around somewhere?”

 

     “Yeah, in her stomach,” said Glenvar, jutting his chin to the corpse. He nodded towards the egg sac as much as the silk would allow. “Get me outta here quick, ‘cause who knows when that thing’s gonna burst open!”

Jeimos quirked an eyebrow. “What else can we use besides fire?”

 

     Glenvar thought for a moment. His expression gradually drooped until he closed his eyes and let out a heavy sigh. “ _Ice_ ,” he groaned.

“That’s it?” queried Alaine. “Fire and ice—those are the _only_ things that can dissolve this stuff?”

“And arachne spit, but we ain’t got time to run back to town ‘n drop a golden goose egg on that shite, now do we?”

 

     Alaine raised a palm and told him, “Me and Jay are going to go further down and see what we can find. If we don’t come back in an hour or two…” She trailed off, couldn’t decide how to finish that sentence.

Glenvar finished for her, “Then we’re all done for. Gotcha.”

 

     There was a second doorway in the chamber, this one leading down to another corridor. Before Alaine and Jeimos left, Glenvar called to them, “Hey, one more thing before ya go! I got an itch and no way to scratch it. Help a _maska_ out?”

Alaine stepped towards him. “Sure. Where is it?”

“First yer gonna have to unbuckle my belt there. There’s four straps, undo those, and then—”

 

     “I am _not_ scratching your ass for you!” Alaine exclaimed.

Glenvar yelled back, “I ain't askin’ ya to scratch my ass, I was askin’ ya to scratch my sack! Itches like a wool sock, it’s drivin’ me crazy!”

 

     The mermaid shook her head. She turned around and grabbed Jeimos by the sleeve as she stormed out of the chamber. “Good luck with that,” she told him, and then they were gone.

 

*

 

     The next corridor was short, and at the end was a heavy double-door. The doors had no handles. But it wasn’t necessary, for Jeimos discovered a lever on the floor. It was stuck with ages of dust and sand. With Alaine’s help they managed to pull it until it triggered some unseen mechanism.

 

     They heard a loud clunk, felt the floor jump beneath them. The doors slowly opened and revealed a new chamber, this one circular in shape and lined by columns. In the center of the room was an abstract statue of some humanoid creature. Jeimos and Alaine looked at one another, neither of them with answers.

 

     Carefully they crept forth, eyes shifting about for danger as they approached the statue. It stood about two men tall, appeared to be made of bronze. Its finish was dull and curiously marred by scratches. Alaine slapped her hand against the metal, listened to the way it clanged. “What an ugly statue! Maybe that’s why it’s down here where no one can see it,” she remarked.

 

     The statue’s head was smooth and featureless, except for a dusty red gem lodged in the center. A big grin spread across Jeimos’ face as they circled its pedestal. They said, “Alaine, this is no statue! I believe this is a golem, and one of most unusual design!”

 

     The elf climbed onto the pedestal and examined its elbow joint, bending the squeaky left arm up and down. They continued, “Who could have possibly built this? And what’s it doing down _here_? What mystery! This thing belongs in the World Athenaeum for sure!”

 

     “It belongs in a junk heap,” said Alaine. She began moving towards the second doorway at the back of the room. “Come on, we still gotta find a way out of here.”

 

     Jeimos let out a sigh, took one last look at the contraption before stepping off the pedestal. They stumbled as the brick beneath their boot sank down like a button. In that moment, the sound of groaning, screeching metal echoed off the walls as the golem came to life.

 

     The elf scrambled away from the pedestal to join Alaine’s side, both mercenaries watching it with eyes wide and weapons drawn. The golem’s feet were attached to the pedestal by copper wires. It effortlessly ripped each foot loose and stepped onto the floor, and when its head turned 180 degrees on its shoulders to face the mercenaries, they saw the red crystal beaming bright.

 

     Alaine looked down at her puny spear, then back to the bronze construct lumbering towards her. Every one of its joints screeched with centuries of rust, each step unsteady and labored. “Just run!” the mermaid cried, and the two fled towards the doorway. Just as they approached, they stepped upon another button. Suddenly metal bars shot up from the floor and blocked the way.

 

     Alaine cursed and shook the bars. Despite all the rust they were stuck tight. The golem was advancing, faster and faster now as each joint loosened. “There’s probably a switch or something,” suggested Jeimos, and the two split into opposite directions.

 

     The golem’s head spun around 360 degrees, watching each of them circle the room. It was hardly fast enough to catch them, but it didn’t have to be. It aimed its tri-clawed hand at Alaine and shot it forth like a missile. The mermaid yelped, caught by surprise when it stuck her in the back. But she was unharmed, for the claws only pierced the water tank she wore strapped to her shoulders.

 

     The tank was hemorrhaging water, heavier now with the claw stuck to it. She shrugged it off and left it behind, then dashed towards a lever hidden behind a column. She gave it a pull, certain it would open the doorway. Instead, it set off an explosive in the ceiling.

 

     The mercenaries had nowhere to run as stone and debris rained down like meteors. The room was quickly filled with a cloud of brown dust. Only the golem’s glowing crystal pierced through it all, and Alaine could see it advancing on her through the haze.

 

     “Jay!” she wailed between ragged coughs. She couldn’t see the elf, but she could see their flames burst forth and engulf the golem from the knees down. Reaching about blindly, Alaine tried to get to her feet. She couldn’t. There was a heavy pressure crushing down on her leg, and she hadn’t even noticed until her ears stopped ringing from the explosive.

 

     “Jeimos! I’m stuck!” she called into the haze.

A voice called back, “Good news! So is the golem!”

 

     The dust was finally starting to settle. Alaine blinked and waved the last of it out of her face. She could see now, just ahead, the golem frozen in place. Its clunky, abstract feet had melted to the floor. It was powerless to stop Jeimos when the elf climbed onto its back and began melting every wire they saw.

 

     The golem began to twitch, jerked its body so violently that Jeimos couldn’t keep their hold. They were thrown to the floor in a heap of dark robes. But it was already too late for the golem, which gradually powered down until it stood slumped over like a wilted flower. The gem in its face dimmed to total darkness.

 

     Across the room, the rusty bars slid back into the floor. The doorway was open.

 

     Scrambling back to their feet, Jeimos rushed towards Alaine. Her leg was pinned beneath a chunk of stone and no amount of pulling or wriggling could free her.

“Damn it,” she growled, gnashing her teeth in pain.

“Is it broken?”

“I—I don’t know. It hurts.” The mermaid surveyed the room once more, saw her water tank lying mangled and empty on the floor.

 

     Then she turned back to Jeimos and told them, “Just find a way out of here. Get Evan to a clinic first, then save Glenvar, then maybe the two of you can move this thing before I shrivel into a raisin.” She paused, cracked a weak smile. “No pressure or anything.”

 

     “Alaine, I’m all alone! What if I can’t? W-what if I lose you all? What will I do?” Jeimos blurted, their gloved hands trembling before them.

“Well, the longer you sit here, the longer _I_ have to sit here! Don’t think about it, just do it!”

 

     Jeimos opened their mouth to protest. Then they decided to close it with their eyes, sucked in a deep breath and rose to their feet. “I’ll try,” they said quietly.

Alaine told them, “I don’t know where all this fear comes from. You’re the scariest thing on our crew, so go out there and act like it! Say ‘I believe in myself’!”

 

     Jeimos quirked their crimson brows. “But elves can’t tell untruths.”

“Fine. Then say ‘Alaine believes in me!’”

 

     The elf clasped their shaking hands together and nodded. “Okay. Okay, I can do this! Alaine believes in me!” they chanted breathlessly, then Alaine watched them pass through the next doorway into the unknown. All the while they muttered to themselves, “Alaine believes in me, Alaine believes in me…”

 

*

 

     This corridor was but a black abyss that seemed to stretch on forever. There were no lights here, nothing to guide the way except the tiny magical flame in Jeimos’ palm. The elf chanted their positive mantra under their breath, jumping at every shift in the stonework, every squeak of a rodent, every tiny bone that snapped beneath their boots.

 

     Their stomach was tied in knots that pulled tighter by the second. Finally the elf reached another door, and it was quite unlike all the others. Jeimos raised their flame, illuminated its intricate surface in an orange glow.

 

     There were glyphs carved all over the stone, telling a story in some long forgotten language. Alongside it were morbid images, the first depicting women being carried in the claws of skorpius. Jeimos swallowed the lump in their throat and guided their flame lower.

 

     In the next carving, the women lie dead next to cracking eggs. Tiny pincers were clawing out of from the shells.

 

     In the last image, hundreds of skorpius stood below a levitating figure: a man with the head of a jackal, or perhaps just a mask. He held a crescent-shaped scythe in one hand and a skull in the other. The flame’s light flickered as Jeimos’ hand quaked. They stepped back from the door and tried to steady their racing heart.

 

     Surely great horrors were waiting behind this door. Perhaps great rewards too, if only they could overcome such a trial. A dusty old sword was lodged between the handles, as if to lock in something that shouldn’t be released. Jeimos had no choice. The lives of their dearest friends were now in their hands, so they used these hands to dislodge the sword and pull the heavy double-doors apart.

 

     They were greeted by total darkness. Then the elf yelped in fright when a crystal orb sparked to life. It dangled from the ceiling by a web of fleshy tendons, illuminating everything in red light. It revealed the hoard of bones carpeting the floor, the walls all carved with images of death, and most notably the sarcophagus at the back of the room.

 

     It stood upright against the wall, a heavy thing of black jet and yellow gold. On the front was the relief of a screaming corpse, lying with its arms tightly folded against its chest. Jeimos stood frozen on legs of jelly. Their eyes shifted left and right, saw no other doorways.

 

     They had reached a literal dead-end. Jeimos wasted no time leaving, turning on their heel to rush out the way they came. Just as they turned to close the door, they saw a black miasma seeping from the sarcophagus. Memories from the Trial of Titans flashed through their mind.

 

     It had been two years since, but it was still fresh in the elf’s mind. They remembered the sarcophagus in the mysterious void, and what lie inside was but a harmless child. That child was Isaac. Isaac, who they realized would be orphaned yet again as the sarcophagus before them broke open in an explosion of miasma.

 

     The lid fell down and shattered against the floor of bones. Jeimos threw their pathetic weight against the doors, but they were so heavy and so slow, there was no hope as the lich escaped with a mighty screech. The creature appeared to be a blackened corpse with glowing red eyes, all draped in tattered robes.

 

     Two horns twisted out from its skull. It wielded a long staff in its skeletal hand, tipped with a black crystal in the shape of a screaming face. Tears streamed down Jeimos’ face as they finally got the doors closed. They turned, looked around for the sword to seal it, but it was too late.

 

     There was a heavy thump, then the doors swung open once more. Jeimos gasped, stepped back in horror when they realized the carpet of bones was gone. Not gone, but rather shaped into skeletons, animated by the power of dark magic. The lich levitated ahead and led its army of hideous bonewalkers through the doorway.

 

     Jeimos stood before them, just one against several dozen. The elf couldn’t let them through, or they would surely pass through the dungeon like a wave of death. Conjuring their flames, Jeimos blocked the corridor with a wall of fire. They ran back several paces, stopped to catch their breath and watch.

 

     The lich paused before the wall. It was unwilling to pass, but the bonewalkers had no choice. It shrieked some order to them, and at once the skeleton soldiers piled themselves over the fire. The wall was extinguished under the jumble of bones, then the lich came careening towards Jeimos with a ghostly wail.

 

      The elf barely had time to react. Arcane fatigue was setting in. They cloaked themselves in flame from head to toe and hunkered down on their knees in defense. The lich sped by and batted them with its staff, sending them rolling across the floor. Jeimos’ shield of fire died to cinders. They hadn’t the energy to keep it up.

 

     Now the bonewalkers were assembling themselves once more, ready to shamble forth and continue their march. Jeimos twisted around and pitched a fireball at the lich. The creature dodged to the side and charged them again, raising its staff high. The crystal face lit up and Jeimos swore they heard it scream.

 

     Or perhaps it was their own scream as the light consumed their vision, burning and burning, until everything faded to black.

 

*

 

     “The house has felt so empty since Balthazaar’s been away. It’s so good to have your company,” Feredil said with a smile. She sat on the floor beside Isaac and placed a wooden tray of hard biscuits between them. Isaac took a bite and realized there were figs in the middle. He didn’t care for figs, but Evan didn’t care for bad manners, so he swallowed it down anyway.

 

     “Balthazaar? Is that your husband?” he asked before washing the taste down with a cup of milk. Goat’s milk, which he didn’t care for either.

Feredil replied, “Yes. He’s a mercenary like yourself, so he does a lot of travelling. Every day I just wait for his next letter, and it’s the only way I know if he’s alive.”

 

     The elfenne tapped Isaac’s nose with her fingertip and continued, “That’s why this is no line of work for a child. You should be in school! Where on Gaia is your mother and father, Boy?”

“I don’t know,” Isaac mumbled, eyes fixated on his boots. “They didn’t want me, I guess. But the Good Guys do! I don’t need school ‘cause they teach me everything.”

 

     “Teach you what? How to gouge eyes and cripple limbs? You shouldn’t be exposed to such things,” insisted Feredil, pointing a biscuit at the boy. “That’s why I want Balthazaar out of this business. No child of mine will be raised this way!”

 

     Isaac looked around at the modest sitting room. It was small, enclosed in cracked adobe with a tattered rug on the floor. The only furniture was a wooden table, a bookshelf, and the two cushions they sat upon.

“I think a kid would be happy here,” he said. “I used to live in a tent most of the time and it was still okay.”

 

     “A _tent_?” blurted Feredil. She shook her head in disapproval and sighed, “My heart breaks for you. You’re such a polite boy! Nothing like those feral street urchins that terrorize the village.” After a pause, she continued, “Balthazaar is human, you see, so we cannot have children of our own. But he told me that if an orphan ever captured my heart, he would love them just the same.”

 

     Her narrow eyes flicked up towards the boy. “I know that he would be crazy about you, Isaac. You could have real parents and a real home. You could go to school and you would never have to venture into scary tombs or spill a drop of blood again! I offer my home and my love to you, if you will only take it.”

 

     The boy’s brows arched high on his head. He was struck silent for a long while, mouth hanging open as if he wanted to speak, but the words were scattered in the wind. What would it be like to have a mother and father again? He hardly remembered his own.

 

     To go to a normal school with other normal children? To his knowledge, he had never. Isaac didn’t recall ever being “normal” either. It was an alien concept, and besides that, he liked his home in Drifter’s Hollow. He liked the little house where he and Evan lived. He liked his cozy room in the attic that overlooked the farm.

 

     He liked swinging from Lukas’ treehouse, liked to fish from Glenvar’s boat in the lake, liked to swim with Alaine in her aquatic cove, liked finding treasures in Jeimos' hoard of scrap. He liked his neighbors, strange as they may be, and they would all surely miss him if he left.

 

     “Um,” he began sheepishly, “that sounds nice, but I like the life that I have. It’s scary sometimes like you said, but…” he paused, shrugged, “That’s _normal_ to me. You’re a really nice lady though! You’ll find some kid who doesn’t like his life and I bet you’ll make him really, really happy.”

 

     Feredil’s face was heavy with disappointment. Still she forced her lips into a smile and said, “Thank you. I truly hope you’re right.” The elfenne then rose to her feet and crossed the room, began digging through a closet. Isaac watched curiously. She returned with a simple wooden box in her hand, just big enough to fit into her palm.

 

     A light mist was seeping under the lid. “At least let me repay you for saving my life,” she said, and when she lifted the lid, a puff of cold steam billowed out. When it cleared, Isaac could see three crystals in the box. They were shaped like snowflakes, each one unique to itself.

 

     “Balthazaar brings these home every time he goes up north,” Feredil told him.

“Everfloe crystals?” queried Isaac. He knew they owned at least one of these, but it was all the way back home. Evan used it to keep food from spoiling, told Isaac not to touch it because they were very expensive.

 

     Feredil nodded. “Yes. No one should traverse this miserable desert without one, if you ask me.” She took one from the box and tucked it into Isaac’s vest pocket. “Be sure to share it with your friends.”

 

*

 

     Isaac was sure he’d missed all the action. He’d go back to the inn and listen to everyone rave about all the exciting things he hadn't been there for…But when he opened the door, no one was there.

 

     Were they celebrating at the tavern? No, they would have left a note. The sun was starting to rise and it seemed the Freelance Good Guys hadn’t even left the ruins. Isaac couldn’t just stand by and wait. The job shouldn’t have taken this long—they must have been in trouble!

 

     Taking some money from their luggage, the boy rented a camel and ventured back to the ruins as fast as the animal would carry him. He hitched the animal to a column and cautiously made his way inside. On the journey here he couldn’t help but fear the worst. His fears became a reality only a few paces in.

 

     “What? _No_!" Isaac wailed and dropped to his knees before two figures lying in the corridor. They were sprawled out side by side, the lifeless bodies of Lukas and Evan. There was no blood, no gore, and no bruises. Had they died from their injuries?

 

     Isaac refused to believe such a thing. Tears spilled down his cheeks as he begged them to wake up, tried to shake the life back into them. It was no use. They were as cold and still as ice. But what about the others? They had to be alive. They just _had_ to be, Isaac thought, and he rushed further down until he came to the skorpius’ chamber.

 

     The skorpius was no longer a threat, lying dead and mangled in the center of the room. But there was something else here too, and the boy knew at first sight that this creature had taken his family from him. It was a lich, gnarled and hideous beneath its billowing robes. It hovered there with its bright red eyes fixated on Isaac, letting out a long, threatening rasp.

 

     Isaac heard a rattle, then another, and then more yet. Bonewalkers slowly shambled out of the dark corners of the chamber. He was surrounded. They were closing in on all sides, blocking his exit, forcing him closer to the lich. He turned to the levitating monster and snarled, “You did this, didn’t you? You took them from me!”

 

     Wrenching the iron staff off his back, the boy charged forward in a blind fury. He put all of his might behind his swing and missed as the lich gracefully dodged to the side. Isaac fell forward with a grunt, wasting no time scrambling upright for another swing. “I hate you! I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!” he screeched.

 

     He missed the lich once more and the bonewalkers’ teeth chattered around him. He swore they were laughing and it only made the fury hotter. The lich tossed its head back and laughed with them. It was a sickly, horrid sound from the depths of its decrepit throat.

 

     Isaac could bear to hear it no more. With a furious howl, he threw the blunt staff like a spear and it pierced the lich straight through its torso. The creature flew backwards, nearly hit the floor before righting itself in the air again. Its laughter ceased. Now it was angry.

 

     The lich pulled the staff out of its ribs in one easy motion. It was but a pesky splinter to this monster and tossed aside. Isaac had nothing left to defend himself when the lich raised its own staff. Dark magic coursed through the wretched thing and concentrated in its crystal face.

 

     Isaac began to feel strange. The room spun beneath his feet, the bonewalkers around him melting into a whirling halo. Staggering this way, then that way, the boy finally fell to his knees. Fight as he might, the power was so much greater than him…

 

     Or so he thought.

 

     Just as the world started growing dim, just as life itself was fading away, the crystal upon the lich’s staff shattered into a thousand fragments. The creature reeled back in shock, dropping its weapon as if burned. The world was returning to Isaac. He slowly sat up, blinking away the heavy feeling in his head.

 

     He watched as the lich seemed to choke, clutching its black, skeletal fingers around its throat. It made a terrible gagging sound, then its violent retching quaked its whole body. What spilled from its mouth was a brilliant light. The light gushed forth with every heave, splashing into the floor before dissipating into fluttery little shapes like butterflies.

 

     The flitting shapes filled the room, gentle and graceful. Isaac’s jaw dropped in awe of their beauty, each one unique in its color, size, and shape. They circled the lich in a shimmering swarm as it dropped to the floor. Its eyes dimmed, darker and darker. It writhed there in agony until finally it crumbled to dust, leaving only its tattered robe and a broken staff behind.

 

     Isaac was told about liches. He knew they feasted on souls, and if that was the case…

 

     The boy watched the swarm of colorful souls flutter out through the doorway. They flew higher and higher until they faded away among the stars. Just four remained. Three of them zipped down further into the dungeon. One landed upon Lukas’ forehead and sank beneath his skin.

 

     Isaac stumbled to his feet and approached the archer, giving him a shake. “Lukas!” he called, and shortly his friend began to stir. He rolled his shoulders and groaned, opening his bleary eyes to Isaac’s smiling, tearful face above him. Lukas grunted when the boy trapped him in a tight hug.

 

     “Watch it, Boy, I’m wounded!” he barked, gesturing to the cauterized slice on his belly. He dragged a hand over his face and looked at the chaos in the chamber. The bonewalkers had fallen apart with the death of the lich, just a harmless pile of bones circling the room.

 

     Then he turned to Evan, still lying motionless beside him. The memories were finally coming back to Lukas’ ailing brain. He seized Isaac’s shoulder and gasped, “Isaac, get out of here! There’s a lich—”

“It’s okay! It’s dead now, look!” the boy assured him, pointing to the pile of robes draped over black dust.

 

     Lukas knit his dark brows. He had more questions, but Isaac was already running off deeper into the dungeon, trailing the other three souls. “Isaac! Wait!” he cried.

“I’ll be right back!” Isaac called, and with that he was gone.

 

*

 

     Isaac found Glenvar first, still stuck in the silkbeast’s web. He plucked the everfloe crystal from his pocket and the silk dissolved like wet paper under its touch. The two made their way into the next chamber and found Alaine with her leg trapped under the boulder.

 

     She was terribly thirsty and begged them for water. Isaac offered his canteen, then thought better of it and poured it over her head. Her scaly legs were consumed by light and transformed into a fish-tail, freeing her from the crushing weight. Jeimos walked in then from the hallway and helped to carry her back into the skorpius’ chamber where Lukas and Evan were waiting.

 

     Or rather, where Lukas was waiting. Evan’s soul still hadn’t returned. The others dragged his body out of the ruin, and this time he passed through the doorway with ease. It seemed the curse didn’t work on the dead.

 

     The sunrise spilled warm light over the desert, casting dark shadows behind each dune. The mercenaries stood over their lifeless captain in silence, holding their helms to their hearts. Glenvar’s brow was furrowed above a stiff jaw. Tears streamed down Jeimos face like rain. Lukas’ arms were crossed tightly over his chest, turning his face away from the others.

 

     What could possibly be said? Isaac dropped to his knees beside the body, for his legs refused to hold under the weight of his heart. Lukas looked up at the stars fading away in the sunlight to hide his tears, eyes rounding when he saw one fall from the sky. But it was not a star—it was a soul, big and blue, cascading down like a leaf from a tree.

 

     The others could see it now as it hovered around Evan’s body. It nudged and tapped against it, but it couldn’t possibly return to a vessel so sick. “Evan!” Isaac exclaimed. He held out his palms and the soul lighted upon them. Its glow was pulsing, dimmer and dimmer as if it were growing weak.

 

     Isaac fished the everfloe crystal out of his vest pocket and examined it in the sunlight. It was a long shot, but…

 

     “Izzy…?” Alaine queried softly. She reached out to stop him, but Lukas seized her wrist.

“Let him try,” the archer said, and watched as Isaac placed the crystal in Evan’s mouth. He pushed his jaw closed, then all they could do was wait as the soul faded away. Time was running out.

 

     “Please, please, please…” Isaac muttered. The ethereal butterfly in his hand was hardly moving, its wings drooping against his palm.

 

     He thought he saw Evan’s eyebrow twitch. Perhaps it was a trick of the morning light, but—no, his eyes were fluttering open now, and the captain suddenly gasped as if he’d been jolted awake. The crystal was coughed up into the sand.

 

     Black beads of venom appeared on his face, down his neck, and upon his arms—every inch of skin the mercenaries could see. Venom was escaping every pore to flee his freezing temperature. The ooze collected into oily black snakes that slithered away into the desert.

 

     The mercenaries stood frozen in horror. “That was the worst feckin’ thing I’ve ever seen in my life,” reported Glenvar. But followed by this grisly experience was one of beauty, as Isaac placed the soul onto Evan’s forehead. It burrowed between his brow, returning to its rightful place behind the eyes.

 

     He blinked, and it was then that the life returned to these eyes. Humanity and vitality were restored. Evan let out a long groan and brought a hand to his neck, rubbing at the sore wound. All traces of black had disappeared, leaving only a red welt behind.

 

     The mercenaries crowded around him, trapped him in a tight hug and cheered victoriously. Glenvar shook his fist at the stars and shouted, “Ha, ya thought ya had us! Not today, ya bastards!”

 

*

 

     The Freelance Good Guys collected their reward for a job well done. Then they promptly spent it on alcohol and celebrated through the rest of the night.

 

     Things were winding down now as the rest of the village was just waking up. Lukas and Evan were the last ones still awake, with the rest of the mercenaries passed out around the room. They would sober up and head home tomorrow for a new contract.

 

     “So,” began Lukas, finishing off the last of his ale, “what was it like being dead anyway?”

Evan didn’t answer right away. He tossed his empty bottle in the bin across the room. Finally he said, “It’s a bit of a mess. I just remember a voice calling me and calling me, but I didn’t want to go.”

 

     “Go where?”

“I’m not sure.” Evan shrugged. “I think I was running away from it, but it was like running in iron boots. I guess I’m never one to break a promise, huh?”

Lukas quirked an eyebrow. “What promise?”

“The one I made to you after I was stung. I promised I wouldn’t succumb, and by God, I meant it!”

 

     He clamped a hand on Lukas’ shoulder and the archer cracked a smile, turned his head to hide it. He looked down at Isaac, dead asleep on the floor with candy bar wrappers scattered around him, every one licked clean.

 

     “We’d all be dead if it weren’t for him, you know,” Lukas mentioned. “He’ll be thirteen soon, won’t he? Maybe we should give him a _real_ weapon and let him tag along after all.”

“Lukas…”

“I’m serious!”

“He’s just a child…”

“Yeah. So are they, all but physically,” said Lukas, tipping his head towards Alaine, Glenvar, and Jeimos piled onto the second couch.

 

     Evan sighed. “I couldn’t bear to lose him, Lukas. My conscious is burdened as it is. You know that.”

“Listen,” Lukas grasped the man’s shoulders for emphasis, gave them a squeeze, “we found the kid in a _sarcophagus_ inside a _void_ on the damn _moon_ , his mom was some kind of sorceress _gazillionaire_ , the most ferocious of beasts won’t even _touch_ him, and in case you forgot: his soul somehow poisoned a _lich_ to death!”

 

     He pointed to Isaac again and added, “Plus, he just ate seventeen chocolate bars and survived. He’ll be fine. It’s like he was _born_ for adventure!”

 

     The captain dragged his palms over his groggy face and groaned. After a moment of deliberation, he replied, “Very well. I’ll think about it. But if I hand that boy a weapon, someone will have to teach him how to wield it properly. There is no room for accidents on my crew, especially with someone of his… _mysterious_ _nature_ involved.”

 

     “Right.” Lukas smiled. “We’ll teach him together, all of us. If he can take a lich down empty-handed, think of what he can do with a bow!”

“Or a sword.”

“I’m thinking bow.”

 

     Evan nodded towards the sleeping child. “We’ll let him decide.”

 

**END**


End file.
